When the Levee Breaks
by Ryla Dante
Summary: A year after Dean made the contract, he is accused and convicted of murder. It is up to Sam to save him before time runs out. Will he make a sacrifice that will ruin everything he cares about? Major Spoilers for AHBL 1 and 2.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It has been one year since Dean made the deal with the dark woman. Now he has been accused and convicted of murder. Now it is up to Sam to save his brother before time runs out. When only mere seconds remain, will Sam make a sacrifice that could destroy everyone around him? Major spoilers for All Hell Breaks Loose part one and two. Rated M for strong language and strong violence. Many twists to come that will, hopefully, leave you breathless. One I threw in just for my own pleasure. You'll know it when you see it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: SPN is not mine, that belongs to Eric and CW. I own all characters not associated with the show!!

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_"In the days of my youth  
I was told what it means to be a man,  
Now I've reached that age  
I've tried to do all those things the best I can.  
No matter how I try,  
I find my way into the same old jam."  
'Good Times' Bad Times' - Led Zeppelin_

XXXXX

"Dean I think this is a bad idea." Sam almost whined to his brother, staring through the bars. Dean had become the property of Langdon Correctional Facility only a week ago. Now Sammy had been recruited to break out his big brother. The last month had been hell, so many interrogations and accusations. Now Dean had been accused of murder, yet again, but this time there was some very damning evidence. Even Sam was unsure of what was going on.

"Sam, just hold the flashlight like a good felon, and quit your sniveling." Dean retorted. Sam rolled his eyes, then stood in front of the lock. It was after dark, and Sam had been locked in after hours. He had snuck in a vent, and waited. Sam eyed Dean as he picked the lock. It only took him a matter of seconds to get it open. Sam smashed his free hand to his face. This could only end badly.

"What did I tell ya little man? Did I deliver or what?" Dean gently pulled the gate open. It creaked a moment then stopped. Dean spied the hall for cameras, catching one just outside the guard station. The guard inside was facing away from them, watching TV with headphones on. Yanking Sam down the hall, he moved quietly, ducking as the camera scanned in their direction, pulling Sam down with him.

"If we get caught I will kill you in your sleep. Pillow and all!" Sam whispered in Dean's ear. He heard Dean laugh. What did he care? He was going to die in a month anyways. Why not help things along?

The camera flashed back in the other direction, giving them at least 30 seconds to get under it. Dean jumped up and skirted to the office, rolling under the camera. He waved at Sammy, who was not happy in the slightest. Yet, he mirrored his brother's actions, just making it in time. They looked up at the camera as it panned over to Dean's empty cell.

"Well, on a wing and a prayer huh Sammy?" Dean chuckled, but Sam was less than amused. He leaned back against the small office, not wanting to move again. Dean had done some dumb ass stuff in the 24 years he had been his brother, but today was at the top of the list.

Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder, then disappeared. Sam grunted, but followed Dean as he zig-zagged down the hall, dipping in and out of the views of other cell mates. Most were asleep, but a handful were still awake, and Dean wanted to avoid all that he could. At the end of the hall was another door. Dean had Sam watch for the guard while he picked yet another lock, then they were through. The guard never moved. Dean wanted to laugh at the inefficiency of the legal system.

Through a couple more doors, and the boys were at a room marked 'Private.' Inside were private files and documents. Dean scanned through a few before he found his. It was so thick he could have used it to hold open the door to Jesus' tomb.

Dean handed the file to Sam angrily.

"It's all bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit!" He slammed the filing cabinet shut, and when he did, he heard a scuffling. They both ran to the small door and checked the hall. The guard station was empty. Dean stepped out of the room, and was face to face with the business end of a .45.

"I guess you are gonna like being someone's bitch after all, huh Mr. Winchester?" The guard cocked the gun, and smiled. Dean shook his head, and Sam just stood there, not sure what to do.

XXXXX

All this had begun innocently enough. Dean had gone off one night a month ago to get a beer. He and Sam had a fight, and he just wanted to blow of some steam. After having a few drinks, he was about to leave, when a young woman came up to him. She was terrified of something, and was bleeding from a cut on her bottom lip. The woman was ranting and raving about her ex-husband hitting her and that he was coming back to finish the job. Dean had waved his hands at her, trying to make sense of the situation. He was a bit tipsy as well, so everything seemed a bit turned around.

"Woah, calm down lady..." Dean had led her outside, the entire time his head pounding. He had never felt this bad after only a few beers. Dean knew how to hold his liquor. Yet his head was on the verge of exploding.

The young woman began to cry, begging Dean to help her. Then before Dean could say another word, a pickup truck skirted into the gravel lot. An angry, burly man exited the vehicle, the engine still growling. If looks could kill, the stare that he had given Dean would have definitely done the job right then and there. The woman gasped, then hid behind Dean, almost pushing him at the stranger. Dean turned to face her, chuckling nervously.

"Listen baby, I may like trouble, but not when it comes looking for me." He grabbed her arm. "I prefer to go looking for it, you get my drift?" He eyed her, and she only stared back at him. This girl did not understand his morbid philosophy. Only Sam did, and he was back at the motel, sulking over his laptop like a girl. Now he wished he was here, if only for a distraction.

The man sauntered over to Dean and turned him around, and he and Dean's face were within inches of each other. Dean flashed his award winning smile, but the man wasn't biting. _Okay Dean, let's try something else_. He tried pushing at the guy, but he was like a brick wall, impenetrable. Dean chuckled again, then prepared for a fist to connect with his lovely face.

"I suggest that you get in your muscle car, pansy boy." The man spoke with a rather gruff tone. Dean suddenly got an ounce of courage, and for the life of him could not figure where from.

"Excuse me sir," Dean tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at Dean's hand, then back at his face. He did not look happy.

"Maybe you should just get back in your Ford POS, Sasquatch." Dean watched as the man's eyes widened, then a large boulder of a fist connected with his nose. He sailed backwards, almost taking down the young woman. Dean fell back against his car, and smacked the driver's side window with the back of his head. He was knocked unconscious.

Dean awoke sometime later, covered in blood. His car was completely banged up, as if it had been in a major car accident. Dean pulled himself off the ground, almost stumbling over his own two feet. His shirt was stuck to his chest, not only from blood, but because of sweat. Dean felt as if he had been running a marathon. He was tried and his muscles ached.

Yanking open the dented driver's side door, Dean saw a sight that made even his strong stomach turn in knots. Even more blood was splashed across the back seat, the rear dash, and all over ever inch of the right rear door. It was as if a massacre had occurred in there. Dean stepped closer, not sure his stomach could take anymore, when he saw two things that sent his nerves to snapping. Lying in the blood was his ID, and the knife that he always kept under his pillow at night.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Be prepared to start hating certain characters!! Hehe!! Oh, by the way, the title of the story if a song title by Led Zeppelin. Forgot to mention that!

Disclaimer: Eric Kripke and CW own Sam, Dean and Bobby. Everything else comes from my own warped psyche! Enjoy!

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"I told you before. I am innocent damn it!" Dean screamed at the cop that was staring at him as if he had a quota to fill. The large file was open in front of them, photos and papers scattered to and fro. Dean had seen all of them before the last time Agent Henriksen confronted him. A bit had been added, thanks to this bogus charge that he was trying his damndest to get out of.

"Listen kid," The cop, his name was Morales, laid his hands on the table then stood. He walked to the two-way mirror, his back to Dean.

"Your fingerprints were all over the murder weapon, your ID was at the scene. There was traces of your blood mixed with the other samples. I mean it's pretty clean cut." Morales turned back to Dean, who looked even madder than before.

"No, you listen." Dean breathed hard. This was terrible. To be accused of a crime he did not commit, then jailed for it. They never even gave him time to plead his case. All because of that case in Missouri, they decided there was legal precedence, and he got the shortest trial in history. Then when the verdict came back, he was guilty and sentenced to life without. Now thanks to his little Houdini act, he was up for even more time. The judge had given him his original sentence: Death...

Now Morales was talking to him before it was too late. He wanted to know why someone like Dean could do something so callous. The reason for the late interview was more for the police's benefit than Dean's, because they had found something only a mile down the road from the bar, and it pointed straight at Dean.

"The reason for the fingerprints is obvious. The knife is mine dumbass. Always has been. The ID is of course mine. But where the blood comes into play is as much your guess as it is mine." Dean lifted his arms and scanned his body.

"Do you see any scrapes or cuts on me anywhere? Other than a bump on the noggin, and a bloody nose when I woke, there was nothing else. So unless I sneezed blood all over the interior of my car, I suggest you look elsewhere for your source."

Morales sighed. He was working with someone who was either playing dumb, or knew just what he was doing. He did not like that feeling whatsoever.

"Look Dean, that is not all that we found." Morales leaned on his chair, his jacket flapping open to reveal his .9 mil. Dean eyed it, but said nothing. If that was his way of trying to unnerve Dean, it wasn't working. He would have to do a hell of a lot more than that.

"Just down the road from the bar, we found the body of a young woman." Morales sat then took out a picture that had been hidden under all the others. He tossed it at Dean, and he instantly went pale. It was the woman he had spoke to only moments after leaving the bar. Her neck was severed, the vocal chord sliced clean through. Her eyes open and staring up, Dean suspected into the face of her attacker. What disturbed Dean the most was that gripped in her left hand was Dean's necklace, the strap broken, as if from a struggle.

Morales tossed a sheet of paper to Dean. It had a bunch of scientific mumbo-jumbo on it. Dean scanned it, the picture the only thing he could see.

"What, what is this?" He looked up from it to Morales. The detective sat down and linked his fingers.

"The icing on the cake my boy." He took the paper back and scanned it. "Says here there was saliva found on the body, and wouldn't you know, it's yours!" He slammed the DNA results on the metal table, making Dean jump. Dean felt sick, dizzy and lightheaded. It was impossible. He could not have done what they say? Could he? He pushed his chair back and stood. The detective touched his gun, waiting for anything.

"I, think, I think I'm going to..." Dean hit the floor, the world giving way under him. Morales rushed to him as Dean's body slammed into the hard floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and everything went black.

XXXXX

Sam's back was against the wall, literally and figuratively. He had been sitting alone in the interrogation room for the last hour, and he was starting to get antsy. He wanted to see his brother, see if he was okay. Dean was innocent, he knew that. Sure he could take out a daemon without blinking, but to kill another human being, that was unheard of. Unless one of his family members was under attack, he would never harm anyone else. That is what made all of this so absurd.

The door opened and Detective Morales walked in. He was sweating. Dean had pulled something on him, he just knew it. Morales had been lead detective for the last 10 years, and he had seen a lot of things, but this guy had some new tricks. He would have to keep his eyes on Dean.

"Sam Winchester?" Morales held a small folder under his arm. Sam nodded, but did not smiled or extend his hand. He wanted this nonsense over with now.

"Where is my brother? I want to see Dean." He stood and moved toward Morales. He pushed at Sam with his free hand.

"All in good time. Now please, sit." Sam huffed, but did as he was told.

Morales sat in the other chair, turning it around. He placed the folder in front of him and opened it slowly. Sam eyed the pictures, and when he saw the one of the inside of Dean's car, he was overwhelmed with emotion.

"What the hell is this? I've seen those. Why the rerun?"

Morales grinned, but said nothing. He flipped over the next picture, the one of the young woman. Sam stared at it for a long time. Edging closer to the table, he spotted the item in her left hand and almost screamed.

"No, that's wrong. You guys placed that there to frame Dean." Sam stood, shoving the picture onto the floor. It floated like a feather, then landed face down. He turned away from the detective, breathing heavily. This was wrong, sickening, and unjust. How could his brother be accused of this?

"I am sorry Sam, but your brother's DNA was found on Angela Mortimer's body, and there is nothing my men or I had to do with it." Morales slammed the folder closed. He waited a moment, but when Sammy did not turn back to him, he left him standing there, angry and saddened by the revelation before him.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Kripke and CW own everything that isn't nailed down! The stragglers are mine!

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Dean sat alone in his new jail cell. He was on the last mile, and he new that he had only days left. No more asking for Sammy to help break him out, that would not work. Plus it would get Sam in more trouble than he needed right now. Dean needed Sam to try and figure things out on the outside, where he had access to a library and the internet. If anyone could help him now, his brainiac little brother could.

Staring into the vast hall, Dean heard a loud bang at the end of it. He tried to look past his bars, but was blocked by a concrete divider. Then he heard a struggle, and someone grunt. Then nothing. The time passed slowly until he saw a large shadow loom at the end of the hallway. Dean suddenly felt frightened. After the strange occurrences, he was not ready for things that go bump in the night. Dean stared at the silhouette a moment, then watched it creep down the dark hall. It stopped just next to his cell. It was breathing heavily, almost hungrily. Then it turned to face Dean and he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus Christ Dean." Sam laughed aloud. He bent at the waist, red in the face. Sam composed himself when he saw that Dean was shaking and so pale he looked like white out. He swallowed hard and gripped the bars.

"Samuel, if you ever pull that shit again, I will kick your fucking ass...you hear me?" Dean was now extremely hot around the collar. He was still scared, but he was covering it up, as always. Sam nodded, so sorry he had done that to his brother, who was already petrified enough as it was.

"How the hell did you get in here this time?" Dean scanned the unlit hallway. The first time had been easy. Just getting himself locked in after visiting hours, but now? What if he got caught?

"Let's not worry about that right now, the important thing here is your innocence." Sam looked down the hall toward the office. He had knocked out and tied up the guard. He would not be bothering them for a long while. Sam looked back at his brother.

"Morales talked to me after he did you. I saw the pictures...Dean what the hell is going on here?" Sam leaned against the bars. He did not want to believe that his brother was a cold blooded killer but in the last year, things had been so different. The Daemon was dead, their dad was free from it's clutches and in heaven and with their mother, and thanks to that damned contract Dean had made one year ago, he was going to die soon. There were so many factors for Dean to slip, to go off the deep end. It was a long time coming. No, Sam could not think like that. It would be like Dean thinking the same of him. It wasn't right.

Dean sat down on his lone cot. He could just barely see his brother's outline in front of him. This was as much a mystery to him as it was to Sammy. Dean still could not grasp the concept of his DNA being on that young woman's body. Something was amiss here. Maybe he was a daemon in Dean's clothing, as it were. Yet, if that were the case, he wouldn't know it, wouldn't even question it. All of this was just to weird for words.

"I don't know Sammy. But I know one thing." He looked at his brother, even though he could hardly see him.

"You get me out of this before they use me as a human lightening rod. That would make me so happy if you could do that." They both chuckled.

A grunt from down the hall stopped them both. Sam turned fast, holding his breath. Another grunt, followed by a muffled groan, then a bang. Sam turned back to Dean, frowning widely. Dean chuckled lightly, then nodded in the direction of the guard station. Sam shrugged, then hurried off. Dean watched his brother disappear down the long hallway and become a part of the shadows. There was silence for a moment, then the sound of heavy footsteps. Next he heard Sam yell something, and then nothing. After a few awkward seconds Sam yelled 'wild cherry.' Dean almost snorted. They had some of the dumbest code words for shit. It was bad enough that their father taught all of them to them, but that they actually had to say them.

Like in case they were ever in trouble, they were supposed to say 'funkytown." Like that was normal. When the coast was clear, and all was well, 'wild cherry." John Winchester sure had a way of making his kids look like pansies.

Sam hustled back to Dean's cell, breathing hard. He fell back against the bars, his back pressing against them firmly. Dean touched Sam's shoulder, causing him to jump. He laughed, then planted a hand over his mouth.

"Ha ha. Very funny." Sam smacked at the bars. He turned.

"Well, I better get out of here before old rent-a-blob gets free again." Sam cocked his head toward the guard. Dean sighed. Sam was right, he did not need to get in any more trouble. Sam said goodbye, but not before taking Dean's hand in his.

"I promise, no matter what the circumstances, I will get you out of here." Dean stared down at the warm affection bestowed upon him. It was altogether strange to him, but he welcomed it all the same.

"You better kid. Or I promise you, that when they pull the switch, I'll pull a Shocker on your ass!" Dean squeezed Sam's hand hard, but only in play. Sam grunted, pulling away.

"Yeah well, in that case, I'll make sure to find the nearest Mennonite." They laughed yet again, then Sam left. This time for good.

Dean laid back on his cot, turning to the wall. Taking a laundry marker out of his pants pocket, he drew a mark on the wall.

"Only 30 days to go." Dean sighed, then dropped the pen on the cot. He closed his eyes, falling into a fitful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Kripke is King, and I'm just the queen. He owns the major, and I'm left with the minor between!

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"Damn it. Ow, shit!" Bobby struggled with his new fire ritual, but the flames kept backlashing. The candles were supposed to light upwards, but every time he said the small chant, the fire shot backwards and kept scorching his fingers. He was quickly running out of bactine and Band-Aids. When he said the chant one last time, they flames finally did as they were told, but a bang on Bobby's door broke the spell and they all went out.

"Okay, that's it. I quit!" He slammed the scrap paper he had been holding down on the wooden table, making him flinch from the sting in his fingers. Skirting around the table, Bobby edged his way to the door, opening it gingerly. There in the darkness was Sam, looking tired and warn down. He leaned against the doorjamb, eyes half closed. Bobby placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, causing Sam to shift a bit.

"Sam, you okay? You look like hell." Bobby led Sam into the small house, past the table and onto a chair by the window. Sam flopped down in it, not even making eye contact with his friend. He was close to passing out on the spot. Sam had been up the last week looking for something, anything that could be responsible for what happened to Dean. He had been running on coffee and nothing else. The first few days had been great. He had been able to concentrate with no problem, but then after about the fourth day, he began to get a migraine, and his eyes conked out on him while he was on the net. Sam tried to sleep, but it was harder to sleep than it was to stay awake. So he just stayed awake, and had been the last three days.

Now here he was at Bobby's place, ready to become a permanent part of the man's flooring. Sam teetered a bit, catching himself on the arm of the chair. Bobby watched him cautiously. In all his years he had known the Winchester boys, he had never seen Sammy like that. His eyes were dark and sunken, almost skeleton like. Bobby could tell Sam had not slept in a long while. As Bobby continued to watch the young boy, Sam's eyes closed, once, then he fell from the chair, smacking the floor with a loud thud. Bobby scooped him up and carried him to a small bedroom off the living room and placed him on a small double bed. Sam groaned, but did not move. Bobby noticed how thin Sam was. He sat next to Sam at the foot of the bed, and just watched him.

XXXXX

It was 12 hours before Sam roused himself. Bobby had taken his shirt off, it had been stuck to him from sweat and rain. Sam blinked trying to get his bearings. The last thing he had remembered was sitting in his hotel room leaning over a bright laptop monitor, his eyes straining to search for something, anything. Finally he had enough. His eyes were burning and tear stained. He had slammed the lid shut and decided to go for a walk. It had been pouring rain that night, but it was almost refreshing. Sam had walked almost 5 miles to Bobby's house, half in a stupor. Twice he came close to being run over. By the time he got to Bobby's, he was already a zombie, so out of it, a bomb could have gone of next to him and he wouldn't have known it.

Now here he was, lying in a strange bed, half naked feeling like Rip Van Winkle. Sam stood, stretching, then heard banging in the next room. He made the bed, then slowly exited the small bedroom. In the other room, Bobby was cooking lunch, and the smell wafted to Sam's nose, and he welcomed it with open arms.

"So, I see the bear is finally out of his cave." Bobby turned back to see Sam leaning against the small doorframe. His colour was back, and his eyes were no longer recessed into the back of his skull. Bobby smiled, and Sam returned it. Gesturing to a wooden picnic table in the middle of the room, Bobby set a plate down. Sam did not stop smiling. He sat, thanking Bobby the entire time.

"Hey, you are a Winchester, I sort of have to." He ruffled Sam's hair, then sat down with his own plate. Sam looked at him a moment. This man had sacrificed so much in the last few years, not to mention before their father had died. He had been there for them when they had no one, saved them when they could not save themselves, and they would forever be in the man's debt. Bobby was like a father to them, always had been. Even though the boys had John, whenever they needed someone to call on when John was absent, out on a hunt they were too young to be on, or just a shoulder to lean on, Bobby was there.

"Boy, if you don't stop staring at me, I'm gonna think your gate done swung too far north, if you get my drift!" Bobby cocked an eyebrow, and they both chuckled. Sam went back to his macaroni and cheese.

XXXXX

Later that day, Bobby sat on his couch, his coffee table covered with papers and text books. Sam sat cross legged on the floor, scanning everything, many he had already looked through at his hotel room.

"Ok, Sam, we have to find something that could have done this to Dean." Bobby picked up a large book, flipping through pages so fast Sam was afraid he was going to get a paper cut. He sighed as he was halfway through and not finding anything. Then he stopped. He thrust the book at Sam.

"That right here, a Priyus. These female temptresses, they trick men into seeing things that are not there, using them, taking things from them to destroy them. Did Dean mention another woman in the vicinity?"

Sam looked at the Priyus' picture. She was gorgeous. Raven hair, green eyes, and a body that would give Kate Beckinsale a run for her money. Sam almost felt taken by her, just from staring at her picture alone.

"I think the only woman he noticed was Angela Mortimer. There was her ex husband of course, but no other people. That he could recall. His mentioned feeling really tipsy, unusual for him, and that he had a headache and he was nauseous. Almost like he had been drugged."

Bobby took the book back, nodding, as if that made sense to him. Sam eyed him. Bobby had been a hunter a lot longer than Sammy, and like Dean, actually enjoyed his job. He scanned the book all the way to the back cover, but found nothing. Tossing it onto the table, he stood. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. To know that Dean would die in only three weeks if they did not come up with something, ate away at him.

Bobby remembered when he got the news out of Dean. He had wanted to deck the boy, to throttle him. Yet the damage had already been done. Strangling him would have done no good. As much as he was mad at Dean, he was even madder at himself for letting it happen. After John had died, he was left to watch over those boys, to make sure they stayed out of trouble. It was silly he knew. They were free, white and over 21. Still, he felt as if they were his sons, and it was his duty to keep them in line. John would have wanted him to.

"Sam, I think we are going to need every second we have to figure this out." He sat on the arm of the couch and stared at Sam. Bobby was a hard man, but lately he had been breaking piece by piece, and he did not like it.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean sat on his cot, staring out of the metal bars. Sam had not been back since his breaking and entering. That was, according to the marks on Dean's wall, three weeks ago. Time was dropping fast, and Dean was truly beginning to worry. This was not like spending two days at a haunted prison waiting for clues. This was the real thing. He was incarcerated for murdering a woman named Angela Mortimer. Just the thought of it made Dean sick to his stomach. He slammed a fist into the wall, cracking the plaster, and his knuckle. He grunted, but ignored to pain. He had felt a whole lot worse.

As Dean sat there, the lights suddenly flickered, then went out completely. He heard a buzz at the end of the hall, then a loud click. The bars in front of him slid open. Dean watched this, then began to feel a headache come on. He dropped to his knees as the pounding was overwhelming. He felt as if his brain was about to explode and leak out of his ears. Then everything went black.

XXXXX

Dean awoke an hour later, once again covered in blood. He almost screamed, and pushed himself against his cot, slapping at his clothes. It had happened again. As he panicked, he heard screaming down the hall. Footsteps receded, then were followed by loud voices.

"Someone turn on the damned lights, and call the police now!" One male voice shouted. Dean knew that something terrible had happened, and that he had done it. But how? He had been unconscious the entire time, just like before. Someone was playing serious mind games with him. God, he prayed that all of this was a nightmare that he would eventually wake up from.

"The trail leads down here, to...Oh my God!!" Another male voice was closer than the last. Dean saw a torch bob down the dark hall, and stop just at his cell. It flashed on him, and he blinked uncomfortably. Two guards stared at him, not believing what they were witnessing. A blood soaked inmate, still in his cell, and not running loose somewhere.

"You, you killed Terry, you bastard!" One of the guards rushed into the cell with his club out and hit Dean upside the head, knocking him to the floor. He groaned loudly, spitting his own blood onto the concrete, mixing it with Terry's, whoever that was.

"He was our best night guard, and you take his life." The other guard had his taser out, and shot Dean in the back with it. Dean grunted, and the confrontation with the Rawhead flashed in his mind. He thanked God there was no water nearby.

"First that pansy-assed brother of yours breaks in and ties him up, then you try to break out, and kill him!" The first man hit Dean again, breaking his left cheek. Dean spit onto the floor, then coughed. That was when Dean realized who they were talking about. _Jesus Christ, rent-a-blob!_

"Please," Dean spit again, trying to speak. "I had, had nothing, nothing to do with that." The first guard, his name was Richards, pulled back with the billy club once more and wacked Dean on the back of his knees. The other guard, Humphry, laughed, his large stomach bouncing with each chuckle. _God. Were all security guards members of the Kripsy Kreme Club?_

"You know boy," Richards knelt next to Dean's left side, blood seeping from his broken jaw. "You really should be by yourself for the last week you have on this earth. It's only right!" He yanked Dean of the bloody floor, causing him to scream as pain shot up his legs and into his knees.

"What's a matter boy? Something wrong with your legs?" Dough boy laughed heartily, and Dean wanted so much to knock his block off, if only it weren't for the pain. They both grabbed him, and drug him to the end of the hall. Dean could see at least five people surrounding the small office. The window was splattered with blood. Papers were scattered all across the small space. Terry's body was lying just outside the door, lying in the same way that Angela had been, save the fact that he was fully clothed. His throat was sliced, and his eyes were staring up at the ceiling. Dean's inmate numbers had been ripped from his chest and were in Terry's right hand. Dean had not even registered this in his panicked state.

Every bystander watched as Dean was drug past them and down the hall. Not a one stopped them or questioned their methods. He disappeared through a few more doors, and into the infirmary to be cleaned up. Then from there, solitary confinement for the last 7 days of his life.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the short chapters, but that is just the way they saved on WordPerfect. Thanx boscoslut for the recent review. Much appreciated. Glad you like the Dean angst, there is more to come from all sides.

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"Damn it Bobby." Sam threw the last book onto the floor." The room was littered with literature about every legend they could think up, yet nothing quite meshed. From Banshees to Sirens to Wraiths and everything in between. They even thought that the trickster was back, but this was too gruesome, even for that fiend. Nothing was coming to them, nothing. 

They had gotten a call from Det. Morales a day after the incident on the row. Sam was blown away. He could not believe that his only brother could have done anything like that. Then for the guards to beat the shit out of him like that, to only have them lock him up in solitary 5 hours later. They did not even give him a chance to really heal. Even Morales was appalled. He was beginning to have his doubts. For Dean to escape so conveniently like that, something was amiss. Morales hated being played. It was like having a straight, and then someone suddenly slipping an ace out of their sleeve for a full house. It was demeaning.

"This is hopeless, and all we are doing is wasting valuable time while Dean is rotting away in jail." Sam was hot. He slammed his hands down on the kitchen table, and the late dinner plates jumped. Then a fresh burst of anger hit, and he shoved every dish, glass and utensil onto the floor. They clattered noisily, causing Bobby to squint.

"Sam, damn it!" He jumped up and grabbed Sam by the arm. Sam swung around, still on fire. He stopped short of taking Bobby's head off with a closed fist. Bobby stepped back, not sure what the hell was going on. Both boys were falling apart right in front of him, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Getting pissed is not going to resolve anything. Being pigheaded like Dean won't get anything done quicker either." He gripped Sam's arm tight. Sam breathed hard, but the redness in his face subsided. Bobby was right. Sam leaned back against the table and sighed. Then a strange thought occurred to him, one he did not want to even consider. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn't anything controlling Dean. Maybe Dean had finally snapped, the life being too much for him to handle. Bobby saw the look on Sam's face, and did not like it in the slightest.

"Sam, if you are thinking, what I think you are, stop." He let go of Sam. Sam shook his head, the thought still there. He hated to think that way, but nothing else was working, nothing fit. Sam spun away from Bobby, picked up his overnight bag, and left without saying a word.

XXXXX

"I just don't get it." Det. Morales stared at the new pictures of Night Guard Anderson. The same wound from the same knife. That was what was so odd to Morales. If Dean had been securely locked up, how the hell did he shut down the lights, open his cell door, get to his knife, then subdue the guard? It just didn't seem logical. A knock on his door made him jump. He closed the file then stood. As he opened the door, Sam Winchester enveloped the doorway, arms crossed and a worried look on his careworn face.

"I need to see my brother, it's important!" Sam uncrossed his arms, but continued to stand there. Morales sighed, then moved to his desk. He scooped up his files and his badge, then stood in front of Sam.

"I just hope that you are prepared for what you are about to see Sam, I really am." He pushed past the young man, Sam following right behind.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to Pippin1984 for her review. Glad you love the angst. Prepare for even more. Only eight chapters to go!

Disclaimer: Much thanx to Eric Kripke for bringing us Sam and Dean to play with when we are bored...and even when we aren't!!

* * *

The outer guard shack was empty. An odd thing for this time of day. Morales pressed the button on the pole once more, but no one answered. He looked back at Sam in the passenger seat, and shrugged. Slamming his fist on the button, Morales cursed aloud. He hated the run around he had been getting lately. For the last five days, since Dean had been beaten, things had been hush-hush at the prison. Finally a voice came over the intercom. 

"I hear ya, stop with the incessant beeping!" It was Richards. He was agitated. Sam could also hear something else in his voice. Almost a smarmy tone, like he was enjoying his job just a bit to much. Sam did not like it.

Morales glared at the pole, as if that would make a difference.

"Well where the fuck have you been?! I have been pressing this damned button for the last 10 minutes. If anything happened to Dean Winchester while..." Morales was cut off.

"Okay, listen _jefe_. That little shit is in the hole, and will be for the next 2 days." He spit at the mere mention of Dean's name.

"I will be pulling the switch myself, and will relish in doing so, and lose no sleep over it. Thank you very much!" He laughed, not caring in the least. Sam gnashed his teeth, but said nothing.

Morales let go of the button. If he hadn't, he would have screamed right into Richard's ear.

"Ese dios maldecido, hijo de la perra!" He punched the steering wheel hard, then took a deep breath. Sam eyed him, but still said nothing.

"You listen, _pendaho_, you let me in now, or I drive my SUV through your barrier, and right into the prison. ¿Comprende?" Morales had pressed the button again, and Sam could tell that he was upset. The fact that he was spitting out Spanish left and right was a sure sign.

There was silence on the other end, then a beep, and the gate in front of them slid open slowly. Morales slapped the side of the wheel in revelry. Once the gate had fully slipped into its enclosure, Morales slid the car into drive and drove up the short stretch of road to the prison. As they reached the front doors, Richards and Humphry were already there. Richards was leaning against a wooden post, smoking a cigarette, smoke billowing around him. When he caught sight of Morales and Sammy, he tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under foot.

Morales shut off the car and opened his door. Sam followed suit, but stood beside the vehicle. He knew what these two had done, and did not want to be any closer. Richards looked at Sam, and smiled slyly, making Sam want to dive at him and knock him into next Thursday.

"So, you're the killer's brother?" Humphry glanced at Sam. He lifted his belt, but his stomach just fell back over it.

"Hey, did your mommy really die in a fire like they say, or did daddy do it?" He started to laugh, but Sam was on him before he could get a sound out. Sam's hands were around his thick throat, making Humphry's face turn cherry red. Morales's eyes went wide, and he rushed at Sam, pulling at his arms. Sam struggled for a few seconds, then let go. He was breathing hard, hot tears in his eyes.

"You son of a bitch, how dare you!" So many thoughts and emotions were rolling around in Sam's head that he just could not think straight. He wanted so much to believe in Dean's innocence, but at the same time he was sure he had killed Angela and Terry. He was terrified of himself and of Dean, and it made him insane.

Richards stepped in front of Sammy. He had a heated look on his face. He was less than pleased that Sam had attacked his friend. He placed a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder, and squeezed.

"Kid, your brother killed two people." He leaned in, almost touching his face to Sam's. "You are lucky that you are not in there with him, and being electrocuted right next to him!" Richards squeezed once more, then let go, turning back to the prison. Sam let the words slip right off him.

"Yeah well, I still need to get in there and see Dean. And you are going to see to it, right now!"

Richards turned back to the men. He was not happy about that. Sam had just attacked Humphry, and he still wanted Richards to let him in? The balls of this kid. Richards sighed heavily, knowing that he had no choice, for Sam was not going to let up easily. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, then slipped one into the front door.

"Just so you know," Richards stepped away from the door. Sam walked toward the door, Morales right behind him.

"You pull any shit today, and I _will_ have you locked up right alongside your brother. Mark my words boy!" Sam nodded, then walked into the prison, not sure what to expect.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This will be the last long chapter. The rest are rather small. I hate that, but WordPerfect saved them too darn small. Also look for a few twists...hope they are not too stupid...hehe! (oooh making a small revision on the part where Morales remembers his sibling. I am making it his sister instead. I have another twist in mind for the second parter!!! It just came to me...)

* * *

Sam and Det. Morales sat in a private meeting room, waiting for the guards to bring Dean in. They had one and a half days left to get any more information. Dean was set for execution at 12:47pm on the exact day his contract was supposed to run out. Just the thought of it made Sam's blood run cold. A moment later, the quiet room's door banged open, causing Sam to jump in his seat. A different guard walked Dean in, and Sam's heart almost stopped. His face was bloody and bruised. His left cheekbone was smashed, and his eye was almost closed. Dean looked pale and gaunt. It was as if he hadn't eaten the entire time he was in confinement. 

The guard walked Dean in front of Sam and Morales. Dean was limping from the wack to the back of his legs. They were still sore, but he was able to use them. Then the guard cuffed him to a chair. He eyed Sam, snorting at him, then walked out. Sam turned to look at him, but he was gone. Turning back to Dean, Sam watched his brother almost break in front of him. Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

"Sammy," His voice was barely above a whisper. Sam leaned in to hear his brother.

"I wish I knew..." He lifted his head, and Sam could really see the damage to his brother's face. Richards had beat him severely. If Dean did make it through this, it would take a lot of surgeries to correct this.

Morales set his folder on the table. He had wanted so to see Dean fry, but now to watch Dean shrivel before him, he knew something was wrong. Morales had never seen anything like this in all of his 10 years. Normally when a man was as guilty as Dean was supposed to be, he would be smiling and bragging, but not Dean. He was falling apart at the seams. Something was terribly wrong here.

"Dean," Sam could barely look at his brother. The pain was too much for him to handle. "Bobby and I tried to find anything we could on what could be controlling you. Yet there is nothing that even comes close. I need you to help me out here! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Dean glared at Sam, as best he could with one eye, and banged a fist onto the table. A single tear fell from his eye, and he wiped at it. He wanted so much for someone to believe him, and now even his baby brother had doubts.

"It's me Sam! You can douse me with holy water, stab me with a wooden stake, even shove a silver bullet _up_ my ass. I'm your alcoholic, foul-mouthed, womanizing, and yes I'll admit it, law breaking big brother." Dean was angry, but it seemed that his anger was more at himself than anyone else. Sam looked up at Dean, and almost cried. Dean continued.

"But not of what they accused me of doing and you know that!"

That was all that Sam needed. He grabbed Dean's hand and held it tight. Dean did not fight, but gripped Sam's in response. They stared at each other with brotherly affection, something that had been missing and only truly popped up since Sam had almost died. They had gotten so much closer, like brothers really should be, and Sam had liked that. Sam owed Dean so much, and he would prove his love for Dean, and it would probably be the biggest mistake he ever made.

"Dean, don't you worry." He continued to hold his brother's hand. Morales watched this display of affection proudly, wishing he and his sister had been that close before she had died.

"I have one more avenue to venture down before this is all is said and done. Things are not over, at least not yet!" Sam let go of Dean's hand, said goodbye, then left the room.

XXXXX

"I was so sure that you were going to give him the chewing out of a lifetime!" Morales looked at Sam out of the corner of his eyes. Sam was looking in his overnight bag for something. He had a plan, one that neither Bobby nor Dean knew anything about. If they did, Dean would be dead, and Sam would be all alone forever. This had to happen at exactly 12:47pm on the night of Dean's execution. That was the time the deal had taken place a year before. The coincidence was too strong to Sam. All of this was too odd to even be a coincidence. Sam knew what was going on, had figured it out on the way to the prison, but when he saw Dean, it all slipped into place.

"Well, I almost did, but something came to me on the way here, and now it is up to me to stop it." Sam never looked up from his bag.

Morales turned to look at Sam. This boy was strange, but of course this whole case was.

"Do you mind if I ask what that is?" He leaned on the steering wheel, completely focused on Sam now. Sam finally looked up from his bag, setting it on the floor. He sighed.

"Let's just say, what I have to do could potentially destroy he and I both." Sam closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again. He looked at Morales.

"Look, I need a favour from you, if it's not too much trouble..."

Morales nodded. He liked this kid, even if his brother was possibly a cold blooded killer. If he knew something about this case that could save Dean, prove his innocence, then by all means, Morales would do anything he could.

"I will be at your beck and call." He sat up, crossing his arms in front of him.

"I need you to drive me to Mississippi."

XXXXX

Morales had dropped Sam off at his new hotel in Mississippi about an hour ago. On the two hour trip there, Sam never let his bag out of his sight. That was until they had to make a pit stop, so Sam could use the restroom. He was only gone a max of five minutes, but Morales was in that bag faster than vultures on carrion. He dug through various clothes and things that meant nothing to him, until he stopped at a small box. Morales looked out of the passenger side window for Sam, and not seeing him, opened the box.

Inside, Morales had seen Sam's ID, a small bag of rancid herbs, and something else he did not recognize. He was about to examine the latter, when Sam exited the gas station. Morales slammed the box shut and shoved it back into the bag.

Sam had gotten back in the car, and seen the look on Morales' face. It was similar to Bobby's, and he did not like it. Sam ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward.

"You know, you could have asked." He turned his head slowly in Morales' direction. The Detective leaned against his door, caught in the act. He had never done anything so low in his life.

"Look Sam," Morales sat up, looking Sam in the eye. He really did want to know what the hell was going on here.

"There has been some strange shit going on here. First your brother accused of murder. Next he supposedly kills the night guard while he is locked up, all the while he claims to be unconscious. After that I read up about your family and find out that your father was some kind of 'hunter' and you and your brother are as well. Could you please explain to me what I am witnessing here? And what the hell is in that box?"

Sam sighed. Dean was always the one to let the secret slip, but Sam felt that what they did was better left in the home. "What goes on in the home, stays in the home!" That was something John always said, but Dean never seemed to get that. He always blabbed everything, drunk or sober. It always got him in trouble.

"We _are_ hunters, but I won't say what kind. That is just not my way. The box is part of what I do, a very important part, and it could save my brother's very life." Sam stared out the window, and never said another word.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean had been moved from solitary to a small holding cell. It was only six hours until he was set to die. He stared at the wall in his cell, unblinking. Dean counted the seconds off in his head, which made things all the more worse. His quiet was interrupted by a key entering the lock, and the metal gate sliding open. Dean barely moved. Richards walked in the room, a smile plastered on his ugly face.

"Well Mr. Winchester," Richards spun his keys noisily on his fingers. He stood in front of Dean trying to rile him. It wasn't working. At this point Dean had all but given up. He did not even look up at the guard. Why give in to his stupidity?

"Looks like your time here on earth is coming to a close. Just a mere six hours." He leaned down into Dean's face. Dean could smell cigarette smoke and bourbon. He wanted to gag, but kept his cool. He could not lose it now.

"Send my love to Lucifer when you take your trip down south, okay?" Richards smiled, then stood. Dean grit his teeth, but that was all. It would take more than that for Dean to be pushed over the edge.

Richards started to walk out of the cell, when Dean turned to look at him.

"Hey, jackass." Dean was actually smiling. Richards looked back at him, brows furrowed. The sight of Dean smiling pissed him off.

"What now? I have an appointment." He crossed his arms, and leaned against the far wall.

"Oh, would that be kicking the shit out of another innocent man?" Dean retorted, and Richards turned beet red. His eyes grew wide, and he almost flung himself at Dean.

"You little..."

"Hey, careful, a man your age shouldn't exert himself too often. Bum ticker." Dean was getting cocky, and he knew it, but with the time ticking away faster and faster, he no longer cared. Richards stood up straight and balled his fists at his waist and breathed hard.

"Now, shouldn't I be allowed a last meal and all that garbage?" Dean's hands were in the air, palm side up. Richards calmed a bit, but not by much. He was still breathing hard.

"Okay, what the hell do you want Robin Leach. Caviar and Champagne? Or maybe water and a crust of rye bread?" Richards smiled a bit, but Dean just glared at him.

"No, none of that." Dean sat there a moment, as if thinking about what to say. "I want your ass on a fucking silver platter."

Richards stopped smiling. His breathing was faster now, and his heart was beating so hard that it was on the verge of bursting. He lunged at Dean, knocking him off his cot and onto the floor. Dean landed on his back, the air whooshing out of him. The only thing he could think to do was to kick at Richards. Even though it pained him to do so, he booted the guard in the kneecap, then turned as Richards screamed in pain. Dean tried to catch his breath, coughing and hacking the entire time.

"You bastard, my knee!" Richards was yelling as he writhed in pain on the floor. Dean turned to him. Dean grabbed the man's knee and twisted it hard to the left making him scream louder. Dean grinned.

"How does it feel asshole? Feel good?" Dean stood, just as Humphry and another guard rushed into the room. They stood there, watching Richards squirm on the floor. Humphry stared up at Dean, not sure what to do or think.

"This son of bitch messes with me again in the next six hours, and I am taking him with me!" Dean sat down on his cot, and watched the other two guards drag Richards crying and hollering out of the cell.

Dean laid back, once again counting the seconds, but this time with a small smile on his face.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Now comes the moment of truth...the major twists, angst and moments of, hopefully, breathlessness. Hehe!! Enjoy!!

* * *

The darkness surrounded Sam like a death shroud. He stared into it waiting for Layla to arrive, knowing that tonight was the most important night of his life. He prayed that she wouldn't be late. As he stood there, a slight rustle came from behind him. Sam waited, then turned.

"So I see I finally get to meet the infamous Sam Winchester." Her voice was like butter, but it was hotter than hell itself. She ran a thin hand along his right arm. Sam felt a tingle in her touch, like a strong static charge. She was beautiful, just as Dean had described. Dark hair, dark eyes, curves in all the right places. She moved away from Sammy slowly, but made sure to stay close. Layla did not want to let the chosen one slip away.

"What brings you here on this most auspicious occasion?" Layla smiled, but there was not any warmth to be found in those lips. Sam wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"It is about my brother and the contract you made with him a year ago today." Sam breathed deep. He hoped that he could undo this, and that things could go back to normal, as normal as they could be any way.

Layla stared at him in confusion.

"Sammy, I am sorry, but that was legally binding. I can not alter it in any way, not even for you." She shrugged lightly. Her smiled lowered a bit. Sam tried a different tactic.

"What if, what if you were to take me instead?" Sam swallowed. This was not the negotiating he wanted to do, but at this point he would try anything. Layla looked at him a moment, then bit.

"You are saying that you would actually give up everything for Dean? The man who sees you as a nothing, who patronizes you at every turn, took you away from the very life you loved and knew? Are you sure?" She crossed her arms.

Sam bit his bottom lip. He had thought about this a long time, but still wasn't sure it was something he wanted to do. He glanced at his watch. It read 12:45. Just 2 minutes to go. Sam was sweating bullets at this point.

"I know what I am doing. I love Dean, and he deserves to live." Sam lowered his head.

"You do understand that once this deal is complete, you have no more time on this earth." Layla touched Sammy's face gently. That was the part that terrified him more than anything. He knew that he had been saved once, and that he had no more chances. He belonged to the devil now.

"Yes, I understand. I just don't like it."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Okay Pippin, you asked for it...hope this keeps you for at least...oh I don't know...two minutes, hehe! The tension is closing in fast isn't it???

Disclaimer: I don't really see the point, but...

* * *

Humphry led Dean into the execution chamber. Dean saw old sparky sitting all alone, and the realization of his impending doom slapped him in the face. He breathed hard and almost collapsed in dough boy's arms. 

"Come on kid. Once it's over you won't feel a thing!" Humphry laughed, then pushed Dean all the way into the room. The clock on the wall read 12:42, and Dean closed his eyes. No longer wanting to count seconds, to even think of time. He just wanted to think of Sam and Bobby. That was all he had, and that was all that mattered.

Richards limped in and helped Humphry and another guard buckle Dean to the chair. He glared at Dean the entire time, but said nothing. He knew a threat when he heard one, and he wasn't taking any chances.

As Richards finished, he pushed a button, and a curtain across the room opened and a large window revealed witnesses. Dean had heard the drape open, and he opened his eyes. Seeing the families in front of him, he broke down. Being on the opposite side of the fence was not a good feeling. The mother of Angela Mortimer was crying, and holding her other daughter tight. The daughter was glaring at Dean. Terry's wife, son-in-law and grandson all sat stoic. Terry's daughter had died only six months prior in a botched convenience store robbery. The murder had yet to be solved.

As Dean stared at the families, a priest slowly walked in, bible in hand, rosary at the ready. Dean caught him out of the corner of his eyes. He knew why the man was there, and he lost all composure. All tears he had been holding in, broke past his emotional flood gates and slipped down his outer shell, pieces chipping away little by little.

"Son, do you have the Lord in your heart?" The priest took Dean's hand in his. Dean could barely breath. The priest knelt next to Dean, gripping his bible.

"For your soul to be pure, you must repent of your sins. You must ask his forgiveness my child. The Shepard will welcome his flock only when they are cleansed of all unholiness. Do you want to be a lamb of God?" The priest stared into Dean's eyes calmly. Dean nodded, still crying.

"Please God, I have done so many things in my life. I have lied, cheated and stolen. I know you see into my heart, and know there is goodness there. Please believe that I did not harm anyone as they say I did. I am innocent!" Dean shouted. The priest was gripping his rosary, praying as he did so.

"You have been absolved of your sins." He touched Dean's forehead. "In the name of the father, son and the holy ghost. Amen." He kissed his hand, then stood. Dean stared up at him. He felt somehow different, but he was not sure why. He had never taken stock in religion, that was Sammy's thing, but today he needed it more than anything. If he, by some strange miracle, made it out of this, he would start going to church regularly. Maybe a good dose of Faith was just what he needed to keep him sane in times of all this uncertainty.

Dean looked at the clock again. It read 12:46. Only a minute to go.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: cackles evily Okay, commencing of stompin' on Pippin's poor little heart. You can have it back, if ya want. It's a little smushed. LOL. Okay, here is the next chapter, but it will leave you even madder at me, hehe. Oh well, that's life! LOL!  
Now, as I said before, the small little twist here was merely for my own pleasure. It is not meant to be serious and I know it could not have possibly happened, but I like to theory of it :) No flaming for being an idiot for writing something that made absolutely no sense!! LOL!!

* * *

Bobby knew that Sammy had gone to do something that would ruin all of them. And he knew just what it was. He had followed Det. Morales as he had driven Sam down to Mississippi. That was when his suspicions were confirmed. First John, then Dean, now Sammy. What the hell was it with those damned Winchester's? Did they all have a death wish? 

Standing beside a large oak, Bobby watched Sam standing by himself. He was about to leave his hiding spot when a young woman materialized out of nowhere. Layla. Bobby knew her well. He had a run in with her once before, when his wife had died twenty-three years ago.

Bobby had been out hunting with John that night, and the boys were back in the hotel room, complaining as usual. Well, Bobby had told Katherine that he would be back later that evening. After a harrowing fight, he returned, bloody and scratched.

Bobby called for his wife and daughter, but they did not answer. When he went upstairs to the bedroom, he smelled something burning in his wife's room. Rushing into the bedroom, there was his wife, just as John's had been. Her eyes were lifeless, and flames were shooting out from her body. Bobby screamed her name as the room was engulfed in flames.

Bobby ran from the room just in time, and ran to his daughter's room, but she was gone. She had been kidnapped. He never saw her again. But what he did see in that room was the dark woman sitting next to his daughter's crib, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Where is my daughter?" He had asked her. The woman stood, almost floating to him. She touched his face, and her hands were like ice. He shivered.

"I am sorry Bobby, but Ava was needed. She will be placed with a different family until her talents are perfected, and then..." Layla laughed, and the sound chilled Bobby's very marrow. "Oh the wonders we could do with her." She touched Bobby's face once more, then vanished.

Bobby never spoke of this to Sam and Dean, and when they mentioned Ava to him, he almost died. To finally find his daughter, and then to have her lost to him in such a terrible way. It was a major part of why he felt so close to the boys. They were the children he could never have.

Coming back to the scene in front of him, Bobby listened as Layla and Sam made a deal for Dean. He heard that Sam would die after the deal commenced. Bobby had to stop this, but as he looked at his watch, it was 12:47, and it was too late. Sam pulled Layla toward him and kissed her roughly, purposefully. Bobby screamed.

"Sam! NOOOO!" Layla let Sam go, and he teetered backwards, gasping and choking. His face was suddenly pale, and his eyes turned white. Bobby could do nothing. The deal was done. Sam fell to the dirt, hitting his knees. Then with one last look at Layla, he fell to his side, all life gone.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Yes Jen, I know I am evil...only two more chapters now. There are two more twists to get out there. I will give you what you want, just so you won't kill me!! Here ya go, enjoy!!

* * *

Richards stood beside the switch, now smiling. The clock over his head now read 12:47. No stays from the governor. No miracles to stop him from throwing the switch. Dean was going to die tonight. The man to Richards left nodded, and the guard pulled the lever, and every light dimmed and a light buzz emanated from the switch, then a split second later Dean screamed as a million volts of electricity shot through his body. He twitched violently, his hands banging against the wooden chair. He spit, then blood dripped from his lips. Dean had bit his tongue. As the surge continued, the lights were no longer dim, but so bright they blinded every onlooker. Then Richards shut the electricity off, and Dean stopped moving. 

The prison doctor stepped in, edging his way to Dean's side. He took out his stethoscope and placed it against Dean's chest. He listened a moment, then jumped back as Dean's chest heaved. It heaved again, then once more. Dean's eyes shot open, and he looked around, wondering what the hell had just happened. The doctor stared in disbelief at Dean, only seeing this twice before in all his years at the prison.

Richards grabbed for the switch again, but the guard at his left stopped him.

"You can't do that."

Richards glared at him. He wanted Dean dead, and this hodunk-podunk motherfucker was standing in his way.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because, the rules state: 'If a man who is executed lives through it, it is illegal, and inhumane, to try again.' That's why not Richards." The man pulled Richards' hand off the switch, and pushed him out of the room, locking the door behind them.

Dean looked up at the doctor, then out at the families. This was not what he had expected to see after that. Once again he had survived being electrocuted, but this time there had to be more to it. Then something made him sick. He felt like one who's twin was sick or hurt. There was a connection that had been severed, and he knew it. He sat there a minute, then screamed.

"SAMMY!!!!!"


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: And to Jen: I know that last one was too damn short...here is another one...The next to last twist is in here...hope ya like it!!!

* * *

Bobby ran up to Sam and scooped him up. Tears fell from his eyes. Layla stared down at him.

"Aw, isn't this ironic. First you lose Ava, and now you lose Sam. You just can't seem to keep a handle on your priorities, can you Bobby?" She laughed, just as before.

Bobby was shaking. She was right. He felt responsible for them, and now he had lost one of them.

"Damn it Sammy, why did you have to be so foolish?"

As Bobby held Sam like an injured child, he heard a twig snap behind him. He turned, and there was...Sammy?

Bobby looked at his lap, but there was nothing there. He stood fast, wondering what the hell he had seen. He was not the only one who was confused. Layla turned beet red, glaring at Sam.

"What is this?" Her voice was filled with rage. She did not move.

Sam smiled and stepped up beside his friend. He patted him on the back and nodded.

"Don't worry sweetie. It'll come to you." Sam crossed his arms and smiled. Layla was steamed. She had been double crossed, but she could not yet figure out how. She moved toward Sam and stared at him.

"What did you do to me? I..."

Bobby was now smiling. Sammy had figured something out, something even Bobby hadn't. No one ever said the boy was dumb, that's for sure.

"Do you remember a certain young man named Andy?" Sam walked around Layla slowly, deliberately. She turned, trying to watch his every move. For a hunter, a _hunter_, to pull a fast one on her was more than she could bear. This would not sit well with the council. Sam stopped in front of her, still smiling.

"Well, when he died, I seemed to have inherited his little gift. You see, that Sammy you kissed was a just a figment of your imagination. So the deal never took place. Dean is alive, as am I. We intend on living long full lives. I thank you!" He touched her arm gently, and both of them slowly slipped behind her back. She struggled to pull them back, but they were held there by an invisible force. Bobby watched this, and began to get a little nervous. He had seen this move before, when Jake made Ellen place her gun to her head.

"Now my dear, if you would be so kind as to get on your knees." Sam waved his hand downwards in front of Layla, and she dropped heavily to the dirt. She groaned loudly, but could not pull herself up.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Sam closed his eyes, and placed a single finger to his left temple. Layla's stomach began to jump, her chest heaved. Her throat expanded three times its size, then her mouth opened and a black cloud exploded from her lips. Sam thrust his other hand to the left, and the smoke shot in that direction, then downwards, an angry scream following it. Layla swayed, then fell to the ground. She lay there shaking and sweating.

"Please, don't kill me." She begged. She was no longer cold and vile. Colour had returned to her face and eyes. She was still a beautiful woman, but Sam felt no pity for her, especially after what she said next.

"I did it, I never meant to hurt you, but I killed those people. I had to, they made me." She looked up at Sam with green, tear stained eyes. He was taken aback. He had a feeling this was the case, but was not sure how far it went.

"Your brother never would not have gone any other way. He would have fought tooth and nail unless we did something that forced him down here with us. Just as your Ava did Bobby, but she finally gave in, and the council couldn't have been happier. She was an asset that we hated to lose." Layla closed her eyes. Sam wanted to kill her, to take her life as she had taken others, but it would have been too easy. He looked at Bobby a moment.

"Wait, did she say Ava? Bobby what..." Bobby put a hand in front of him.

"Later. Right now we have to get to Dean. Let her rot here." Sam nodded. They walked away from Layla, who was screaming for them to come back, that things were not over yet, and were going to get much worse.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Here is the final chapter, and the final twist. I pray that I have not kept you going too long, but I think that after this last little bit, you will be even madder at me, hehe!! Don't worry, I will not leave ya hanging. There will be a part two!!!

* * *

Dean sat in the infirmary, once again. Sam and Bobby sat next to him. They had told him everything about Layla. Dean was so relieved to finally hear the truth. Sam had taped the entire conversation, and hoped that it would help to get Dean out of jail. Only time would tell.

"Now, Bobby, I think you have something to tell us? A little family secret of your own?" Sam stared at him. Dean looked at both of them, wondering what they were hiding from him. Bobby sighed. It was only right that they know.

"Well, it all started twenty-three years ago..."

XXXXX

Layla sat in the middle of the road, staring down all four stops. She had been there for over two hours. At this time of night there weren't any motorists, not even and owl to keep her company. She kept looking into the distance, when a noise startled her. Turning to look behind her, she saw a member of the council she wished had not been there.

"Layla my dear. I hear the Winchester boy was here, along with that hunter uncle of his. You were taken for a fool. Were you not?" The man loomed over her, and she was instantly afraid. His yellow eyes were the only light in the darkness that surrounded her.

"Creigh, I am sorry. I never saw it coming. Please..." He stopped her. Kneeling in front of her, he slowly smiled. His features still shrouded in darkness. Creigh's hand caressed her thin arm, traveling up to her neck.

"Well Layla, in the future, keep your eyes open. You never know what might happen to you!" Without warning, he snapped her neck cleanly. Creigh stood, dusting off his pants. He smiled widely.

"My brother may have been stupid and foolish enough to fall for their tricks. Not me. They have not known true hell." Creigh walked away, leaving Layla's body lying in the middle of the road for the clean-up crew in the morning.

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_


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